


A Good Fit

by editingatwork



Series: Any Which Way [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Polyamorous relationship, Roadies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Jack gets lonely on roadies, but he's forgotten something: he's not as alone as he used to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Un beta'd and barely edited, as always. Enjoy the softness, my darlings.

Late-October roadies are the worst. Jack is used to the cold and the darkness of oncoming winter but that doesn’t mean he _likes_ it, and all the traveling in between hockey games makes him feel twice as worn out.

When the Falcs are on the road, Jack does his best to take care of himself. He sleeps, eats, Skypes Bitty, and checks in with himself every morning and throughout the day to find out where he is on the spectrum of stress. He knows himself by now, and although the whole point of anxiety is that it sometimes bites without warning, there are certain things he can do to reduce the chances of it rearing its ugly head.

One of those things is staying in contact with people he cares about. People who remind him that he’s not alone.

Recently, Kenny has become one of those people.

They’ve been friends (again) for almost a year, now. When they first took the plunge back into civil conversation, it was stiff and awkward. They were different people and they had to learn how to treat each other as adults with control over their lives, not underage kids thrown into a hockey-fame pressure cooker and seasoned liberally with teenage hormones. Kent’s still kind of a dick but he’s finally making a concentrated effort not to be, and Jack is trying his best not to let the hurtful history between them color his judgement of Kent’s actions now. He wants Kent to be his friend. He never really hated Kent; just how hard Kent always had to make things.

It was one of the weirdest moments of his life, finding out that Tater and Kent were dating.

Tater. Tater _and Kent_.

And then, a month ago, Tater and Kent _and Bitty_.

Jack’s almost glad they’ve started the regular season and he’s got an excuse to be fully distracted by hockey.

Maybe too distracted. Tater seems to notice Jack’s single-mindedness and keeps an eye on him, although Jack doesn’t realize that’s what it is, at first.

On a flight to Colorado, Tater switches seats with Guy mid-flight and leans into Jack’s space to see what he’s reading.

Jack turns the book around to show the cover.

“Is history book?”

“Nineteenth century European history,” Jack says. “Outlining the economic and political causes of World War One. I had a whole class on this in college, but I wanted a refresher.”

“Can take man out of college, cannot take college out of man,” Tater says sagely.

“Well, I was featured in a Falconers Face-Off as the resident Bachelor of the Arts,” Jack says. “I have a reputation to keep up.”

Tater grins, pats Jack’s shoulder. “Yes, you do.” He pulls his phone and some headphones out of his pocket. “You minding if I stay, listen to music?”

Jack doesn’t stop to wonder why Tater swapped seats to sit with Jack if he’s just going to quietly listen to music. Jack enjoys Tater’s presence. “Sure.”

They sit together for the rest of the flight.

In Colorado, the Falconers win by a good margin and then get on a plane to Phoenix. Tater gets a seat across the aisle from Jack and they chat through the flight. After landing, they get on a bus directly to the rink. Jack spends the ride texting Bitty, who’s all the way in Boston because his entry-level job at a marketing firm doesn’t give him enough time or money to jet all over the country in Jack’s wake.

In the locker room, Tater comes over to Jack’s cubby and asks, “How is Bitty?”

Jack is out to the team, but only a few people know that he’s dating anyone. Tater has been one of those people since almost the beginning. “Bitty’s good,” Jack says. “Tired. Apparently it’s a busy time of year for them, going into the holidays. He says he’s been fetching so much coffee he’s on a first-name basis with half the Starbucks baristas on the block.”

Tater laughs. “He is enjoy his job, then?”

“I think he’s just glad to have it. Full-time work has been touch-and-go for him since he graduated.”

“He is smart guy. Hard-working. All he need is chance. Now he has it.” Tater pats Jack’s shoulder, lingers a bit and makes it a comforting squeeze. “He’ll be okay. You don’t worry, yes? You play hockey.”

Jack smiles. “Yeah.”

They dress, go out, play hockey. It’s another win.

Celebrating abounds, at least among the younger players. Jack and most of the other guys in his age or seniority bracket head straight for the hotel afterwards, eager for some time off their feet. Jack’s got his own room this time: a single with a bathroom and a nice flat-screen TV. After changing into a comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants, he grabs a protein shake from his bag and gets on the bed. It’s still early afternoon in Boston, so there are still a couple hours until Bitty gets off work and gets home so they can Skype. Jack will keep himself busy in the meantime.

Since he’s almost finished with his book, he decides to save it for tomorrow’s flight to Vancouver. He puts it off to the side and grabs the remote.

He’s just found a news channel he likes when there’s a knock on the door.

It’s Tater.

“Hope I not bother you, Zimmboni.”

“No. I’m just watching TV.” And because Tater’s not someone he has to hide things from, he adds, “Just killing time until Bitty gets home from work so we can Skype.”

That makes Tater grin. “You so good with him. You both so good, always Skyping. Kenny is not liking Skype so much, he always texting.”

“Oh, Bitty texts, too,” Jack says. He realizes they’re standing in the doorway talking about their respective boyfriends and takes a step back. “Did you want to come in?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.”

Once the door is closed behind them, Tater sits on the bed and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Aces having home game tomorrow, so Kenny is in Las Vegas,” he says. Jack knows this, but he doesn’t mind hearing it again. He likes seeing these little clues of how invested Tater is in Kent’s life. “He send me so many photos of his cat. Look, Zimmboni.”

Jack comes and sits next to him. Tater has what looks like a hundred photos of Kit Purrson saved on his phone. When Tater switches to a recent text conversation, Jack can see that it’s mostly heart and kissy-face emojis interspersed with photos of Kit.

“That is _way_ more emojis and stickers than he uses when he texts me,” Jack says, and Tater laughs.

“Well, Kenny think you are serious guy who want serious conversation.”

Jack thinks over the long history of inane conversations he’s had in the Samwell groupchat, and says, “I’m not _that_ serious.”

“Oh, I know. Kenny maybe doesn’t.” A Snapchat notification pops up and Tater shakes his head. “More cat. I always want make pussy joke, but I don’t know if that make better or worse.”

While Jack snorts with laughter, Tater clicks to open the photo.

It’s a selfie of Kent, standing on his balcony in Vegas, a brilliant sunset as the backdrop. He’s got a glass of wine in one hand and he’s toasting the camera.

_here's to you, babe. you kicked ass today._

Jack’s chest aches with something he hadn’t known he could still feel, when it came to Kent.

Tater smiles as he looks at it.

“He’s one of a kind,” Jack says, and Tater responds softly, “Yes.”

Then Tater holds up his phone and says, “We send back selfie to him? Together?”

“He won’t mind?” It wasn’t an explicit picture, just Kent on a balcony, but the sentiment behind it had felt intimate. Private. Something Jack wasn’t sure Kent would like to know Tater shared.

“I think it make him happy.” Tater looks sure, so Jack shrugs.

“All right.”

“Yes!”

Tater throws an arm around Jack. The weight of him is warm and familiar, one that Jack has learned to welcome whole-heartedly no matter where he is—in a celly on the ice, standing by his cubby in the locker rooms, sitting in a booth at a diner with the rest of the team—because a hug from Tater only ever means friendship and safety. Jack puts an arm around Tater’s waist, leans his head in too, scoots closer when Tater holds up the camera and frowns, saying, “No, we not both in, squeeze more.”

By the time they take the photo, Jack’s grinning so hard he doesn’t have to fake the enthusiasm at all. Tater keeps his arm around Jack’s shoulders as he sends the photo to Kent. The caption across it reads, _you kick ass too, golubka. see u at PVD in two weeks. miss you._

It makes Jack feel strange, sending something sweet to Kent. Not bad. But strange.

He and Kent had rarely been gentle with each other, but once upon a time, they’d given “sweet” a try.

“You get photos from Bitty?” Tater asks. He’s still got his arm around Jack. It’s nice.

“Sometimes,” Jack replies. “Less now than when we started dating, but several times a week. Bits usually takes pictures of food, or his Starbucks-of-the-day, or something he saw that made him think of me. I try to send him photos, too. He gets lonely, and I think it helps him to see me, see what I’m doing.”

“I understand. Is hard, have boyfriend live far away.”

“Yeah.” It was the worst at the beginning. Jack still can’t believe he wasted all his time at Samwell figuring out his feelings, when he could have been waking up and kissing Bitty every morning. Instead, he’d graduated, kissed Bitty, and then embarked on an NHL career with a grueling schedule that took him all over the country. As hard as that had been for Jack, it had been even harder for Bitty.

It’s been two years. Their relationship has held up. They’ve stabilized. As Bitty said, they’re solid.

It doesn’t make the distance any easier, though.

Tater gives Jack’s shoulders a squeeze. “You are missing him, all week. I’m see it. You sighing, all the time. Checking phone, always texting. Is not bad,” he adds. “You are missing boyfriend, but is not only him now. You know?” He pats Jack’s shoulder, and— _damn_ , there’s a blush in Tater’s cheeks. “You not have to be alone. You have me.”

The TV is still going in the background; white noise backdrop for the ringing silence in Jack’s head.

“Oh,” he says eventually. “I mean. If you want to?” He doesn’t even know what’s being offered. He’s still not sure where he stands with Tater. Their chemistry is odd; it reminds him of himself and Bitty, back when they were linemates at Samwell, but it’s still not the same. As Bitty’s captain, Jack had always felt a sense of dutiful responsibility. He’s not Tater’s captain, though, and Tater isn’t his. Except for Tater’s seniority as a Falconer, there’s not much difference between them, not even in age. They’re just good teammates. Good friends.

Good friends who’ve accidentally ended up in a four-way relationship with their boyfriends haphazardly in the middle.

And here Jack thought his life couldn’t get weirder than waking up to Shitty naked in his bed freshman year.

Jack asks, “What do you—Uh. What do you want to do?”

Tater nods to the TV. “Maybe sit together? Just watch TV?”

“Like, sit next to each other, or…?”

Tater’s blush had been fading, but it comes back. “If is okay, I like this.” He shifts his arm around Jack and touches the hand Jack still has on his waist. Jack had been so comfortable he’d forgotten it was there. “When Kenny and I are away,” Tater continues. “I miss him. I miss… this.” He runs his fingers over Jack’s shoulder, down Jack’s bicep.

“The contact,” Jack says. “I miss it with Bitty, too. Bitty always snuggles up to me when he’s on his phone.”

Tater smiles. “Kenny is like moss. Always clinging.”

Jack laughs. “I know what that’s like.” He nods to the empty bedsheets behind them. “Sure. Let’s watch TV together.”

So they push the pillows up to the headboard and settle in, legs stretched out. It’s a tight fit, at their size, but that just makes it more sensible to snuggle together. Tater puts his arm back around Jack and Jack tucks himself against Tater’s side. Tater offers him the remote, saying, “I’m not picky, whatever you like is okay,” so Jack flips through until he finds the History Channel. Thank god, it’s a real documentary, not another conspiracy theorist show about aliens.

It’s comfortable. Easily so. Tater’s a very tactile guy so Jack has gotten used to him over the years, and this doesn’t feel any different from their usual friendship, just closer. The best thing about Tater, Jack finds, is how much of him there is. He hasn’t really cuddled someone the same size as himself since Samwell. Bitty isn’t as small as people make him out to be, but it’s still easier for Jack to curl protectively around Bitty than it is for Bitty to do the same. With Tater, Jack feels like he could easily be the little spoon both in positioning and actual size. He finds that he likes the weight of Tater’s arm around him and the sheer mass of Tater pressed against him.

After a while, Tater lays his head on top of Jack’s. Then he wiggles a foot against Jack’s until Jack gets the hint and hooks his ankle over Tater’s calf.

“Is okay?” Tater murmurs. Jack feels the breath on his scalp. “If is not okay, just say.”

Jack takes a moment to check in with himself. Physically, he’s comfortable as hell. Mentally, this is the least stressed he’s been all day. Being in a quiet space has helped, but the physical contact with someone he feels safe with has accelerated his recovery. He feels like he could fall asleep if he put his mind to it. Already, he’s feeling drowsy.

“It’s okay,” he answers finally. “Actually, it’s better than okay. This is the best I’ve felt all day. All week, maybe.”

Jack _thinks_ he feels Tater press a light kiss to his hair. “Good. I’m glad. Not want you be stress.”

“Is this okay for you?” Jack asks. “I know Kent and Bitty are… That we’re all…” He’s really shit with words, sometimes. “But I’ve been reading a lot, trying to get an idea of how this is supposed to work, and it doesn’t have to go in all directions. The, uh, attraction.”

“Are you ask if I’m think you are cute, Zimmboni?”

The chirp makes Jack smile. “Well, do you?”

“Yes.”

Jack likes the blunt honesty of that admission. “Good. I think you’re cute, too.” Then, because Tater’s been doing all the heavy lifting of sharing his feelings tonight, Jack asks, “Would it be okay if I kissed you?’

Jack definitely feels Tater catch his breath. “Yes. Would be very okay.”

So Jack brings his head up and Tater tilts his face down, and they meet half way.

As it turns out, kissing Tater is as warm and comfortable as being his friend.

When they part, Jack smiles and says, “I liked that.”

“Me, too.”

“Good. Glad we got that settled, eh?”

“Yes.” Tater kisses his forehead, then urges Jack to lie back down on his chest. “Now, rest. Bitty is get off work soon, and if he see you tired, he ask why I not take care of you.”

Jack does as he’s told and gets comfy. The documentary drones on in the background, and soon Jack is dozing off.

It's okay. Tater will wake him. Jack can already tell that Tater doesn't intend to leave him alone, or lonely, any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Jack and Tater's friendship is so SOFT AND GOOD, y'all, I recommend it.
> 
> Join me in rarepair hell (Patater, mainly, but apparently this now) on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
